Starts with a 'W'
by HartBeat
Summary: An inside look at the far from simple life of a Bash Brother. From problems at home to his love life... read for more. ::REVIEWS:: Chap. 2 up
1. Of Worry

**Disclaimer: **The Mighty Ducks are not mine in any way shape or form. It's unfortunate but it's true... so no sue... no sue! (like my rhyme? ;) )

**Title: **Starts with a 'W'

**Author:** Kloe Hart (HartBeat)

_This story was inspired by the fanfiction 'TwentySix', so thanks a ton! Partial credit for the letter idea:D_

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Portman's POV:_**

-----------------------

**'W' stands for 'Worry'**

Sometimes I think I worry too much. And other times I worry that I don't worry enough. There's too much worry. Most recently the source of my stress is coming from my mom's boyfriend. Hank. He's a total ass wipe. He smokes too much and drinks even more. I'd need ten hands to count the number of times he's come home completely wasted. A lot of the times he'd throw things. Plates, pictures, lamps. Two nights ago he hit her. That bastard hit my mom.

_"Fucking bitch!" Hank came stumbling threw the front door ofthe bungalow. He reeked of alchohol. He staggered for a moment and then looked around the small living room. _

_"You can't keep this fucking place clean for more then a day can you!"He slurred. _

She's the single mother of a teenage boy. What'd he expect?

_"I don't know why I put up with you, you whore!" _

_"Don't call me that!"_

My mother's eyes were filling up with tears by then. I remembered their previous night's conversation. He'd promised not to come home drunk again. So much for that. Then he'd leaned over, practically falling over, to grab mom's antique lamp. Her wedding gift from my slightly more decent father. He threw it. I remember watching it fly through the air. My mother's eyes following it the whole way. That's why she didn't see Hank storming towards her. Not until it was too late anyway. He pulled his hand back and slapped her across the face. That's when I got up off the couch.

_"Keep your fucking hands off my mom!" _I'd screamed. He turned to me. His face red with rage. Mom was backing away a little bit, her hand on her cheek.

_"You are constantly interfereing with my business boy!" _

Duh. He treats my mom like shit and I'm supposed to put up with it like she does? Not a chance.

_"Hank! Don't!"_ My mom cried.

That's when he hit me. Or tried to. He was stumbling his way over to me and I had more then enough time to prepare myself. He started swinging. He didn't have any real sense of aim. I caught his arm and yanked it. He cried out as his shoulder left it's joint. He got a pretty decent blow to my stomach but that's when my mom came back with a pan from the kitchen.Once he was unconsious we dragged him out the back and tossed him over the small fence so that he was lying on the sidewalk. We went back inside, locked all the doors and window and then my mom cried. I cried to. Not that I'd tell anybody.

Hank didn't come back that night. Or the night after. All our windows are still locked though. My hockey starts in a week and a half so I'll be leaving her by herself. This is where I think I don't worry enough, because as much as I want to make sure she's safe... I'm going anyways.

But I'll still worry.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
**End of chapter 1 :..**

**Please Review! It's that funny button right below this! Review review! More to come!**


	2. Of Wonder

**'W' stands for 'Wonder'**

Appearantly I'm a hot topic of conversation, everywhere I go. At school I'll walk down the hallways and then the buzzing starts. And the giggling.

_"That's him right?"_

_"Oh my god, you're probably right."_

I've never understood why everyone seems to think I'm some sort of sex god. Honestly, people come up with some pretty whacked up stuff. My first day at my new highschoolschool in Chicago I was confronted by two distinct groups of people. The first being the slutty girls who were willing to sleep with me despite not knowing anything about me and the second being all the guys who'd already slept with them, askingif I wanted to hang around with them. I politely declined, knowing I would very shortly be making friends with all the jocks.

I've always had people to be with. In all honesty, thinking back a little bit, most of the girls probably only hung out with me as sort of a status thing. Because despite my efforts, people just refused to belive that I wasn't some angelic soldier of the bedroom. But whatever. If they wanted to think that, I wasn't going to fight it too hard.

_"I wonder if he really is a druggie?"_

Can't tell ya how many times I've heard that one. I must look the type or somthing because I've had even more trouble convincing people that I don't shoot cocain or any of that other crazy stuff floating around. Granted, the pot thing was a phaze. A phaze I'm happy to say is over.

You can't bea hockey star and be sucking back cancer. It just doesn't work.

And that's another thing. It took me forever to find a team that wouldn't test me every five minuted for steroids or junk like that. Thank god for the Ducks.

This one team I played with for a little while, the coach was bound and determined to catch me using some sort of enhancer. Of course there was nothing to catch. One day, after yet another needle being stuffed into my tricept I told him he could spend the night at my house and watch me work out if he wanted.

I knew it was rude before I'd even said it but I didn't realize that it sounded slighty kinky until later, after I'd been kicked off the team for badmouthing. Appearantly that was the last straw. I'd never snarked the coach before but... yeah... I didn't get along with 33 or 07 very much.

It gets slightly tiring. Having everybody assume things about you withoutreally knowing. Somtimes I'd lose it and tell whoever was within earshot to just freaking ask me themselves rather then whisper behind my back. But people don't ask. They juststart and spread morerumors about number 21. The big boy.

I guess they just need somthing to wonder about.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Review please :D!I love reviews, have I told you how much I love reviews? I don't think I have... here, let me tell you... ..:hand is clapped over my mouth as I'm taken to looney bin:..**

**more to come:D**


End file.
